


Just Like The Movies

by parrotfish_elliot



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: But whatever, Fluff, M/M, Movie Theatre AU, and the age gap is incredible, its cute and theyre gay, jason was the product of a drunk college night and truth or dare, marvin and trina were never married in this, marvin has a crush, marvin hates theaters, why does it say theatre is the wrong spelling when it's clearly superior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-11-11 10:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parrotfish_elliot/pseuds/parrotfish_elliot
Summary: "Yeah, um, yes, absolutely one number coming up and I'll write down my popcorn for you- I mean my number- oh shit."Or, Marvin hates movie theaters. Except maybe not this one.





	1. Two Lame Boys Meet

**Author's Note:**

> I have to give partial credit to my friend @thatdamntheatrekid for help with this idea, I cannot take full credit for something that's a joint effort.

Marvin hated the movies. He hated the popcorn, he hated the drinks, he hated the stench, he hated the bright screen contrasting the dark, dark room, and he absolutely loathed the counter workers. So when the mother of his child ordered him to go and watch some lame movie with her and their son, he had every right to say no. Why would anyone willingly go to a theater that wasn't live? 

She offered him twenty dollars. He decided to go.

As he got dressed the morning of, he contemplated what a lucky thing it was that he's such an amazing father, or whatever. He thought over that obvious fact whilst putting on a button down, whilst combing his hair, and whilst applying chapstick. He thought over that fact instead of thinking of the germs on the seats and the overpriced tickets and the-

No. He's doing this for Jason.

Actually, fuck that, he's doing it so Trina is forced to pay him twenty dollars. 

He walked out of his apartment and to the apartment of the Weisenbachfelds, one door to the left. He knocked, as if picking up his semi-family for a date, when really just waiting for Trina to be ready because she's the only one with a functional car. 

When two of the most important people in his life finally walked out, he was relieved. They walked out of the complex, down a flight of stairs, and to the car. The car ride was less pain-inducing than usual, given Jason's obsession with talking and talking and talking about the boring and also very interesting complexities of chess.

They arrived at the dreaded theater twenty-seven minutes into a D&D style playthrough of the last game of chess he had beaten himself at.

Marvin made a big show of getting out of the car and scowling at the bright building in front of him. 

This was the last thing anyone could possibly want to do on a nice Thursday night- Thursday! A work day! He had a job, despite it being summer! He somberly walked next to the practically buzzing Jason and the very clearly smug Trina, muttering about how he's far too gay for an action movie. 

His opinions on everything he had ever thought before in his life were changed when he walked in, though.

In between two lazy looking teenage bums who probably only had jobs to pay for drugs stood a man that further confirmed that God does, in fact, exist. The uniform was a tad too tight on him, the standard visor hat sat wonderfully around his hair like a halo, his eyes were.... Suspiciously bright for someone working in a Cinemark. With a new sense of vigor, Marvin marched up to the concession counter, but soon realized his mistake. He should not have approached the guy without a battle plan. The exact syllables of his order were stuck in his throat, replaced only with blushing and an endless 'uhh' echoing in his head.

Trina took this as an opportunity to order all their snacks for him, already knowing what had happened. Alas, the man who had impregnated her had a schoolboy crush, something her school-aged son had yet to experience. 

Marvin stood at her side, trying his best not to stare. He took the snacks as she gave them to him, passing the candies to Jason. As quickly as possible, he led his small group of people to the specific room in which their film would be showing. The room that Jason had noted, quite ingeniously, was, "Theater-ception. A theater in a theater. Get it, Dad?"

Marvin did, of course, 'get it'. 

He managed to sit through almost half of the admittedly poor movie, waiting desperately for an excuse to leave. As soon as Jason finished the popcorn, he was on his feet, quickly whispering an excuse about getting more popcorn.

He walked over to the counter, face already the color of a ripe tomato, and specifically chose the cute guy. The cute guy's face was as red as his own, much to his surprise.

The guy greeted him, only stuttering, like, a billion times. "U-um he-hello what- what do you- do you need? Um, shit, I mean-" He turned redder, ducking his head.

Marvin smiled happily, glad to know that he wasn't the only nervous one. The smile slipped when he remembered he would have to respond. 

"Yes hello may I have a refill of popcorn and also maybe your number please and thanks?!" He rushed out in one gulp of air, eyes wild.

The guy froze, and Marvin feared he had grossly misread the situation. His fears were thankfully eased, however, when the boy responded. "Yeah, um, yes, absolutely one number coming up and I'll write down my popcorn for you- I mean my number- oh shit." He stumbled over his words, clearly freaking out when he finished what could only be described as a train wreck.

Marvin's smile reappeared, always hungry for the upper hand. He waited patiently for the first time in his life for the number and the popcorn. He would most likely write down the conversation verbatim in his diary- wait, shit, journal, later, so he spent the seconds of waiting running over all the words and stumbles and 100% staring at the boy's hands and hair and eyes- oh God, his eyes.

When the boy finished scribbling down the ten digit code of truth, he straightened up and taped it to the popcorn tin before handing the entire thing to Marvin.

"I'm Whizzer, by the way," he introduced himself, having quelled his nerves via repeating all the lyrics to Fergalicious in his head over and over throughout the entirety of writing down his number. 

Marvin's smile only brightened. An adorable name for an adorable man. "I'm Marvin, which is a much lamer name compared to yours- I really like your name, I should shut up now I'm rambling- am I rambling? Shit, sorry," he put a hand over his own mouth, smile most definitely not there anymore. Possibly on the verge of panicking, he thought fast and put down a ten dollar bill despite the five dollar refund deal. “Um, uh, keep the change, I’ll text or call you or whatever when the movie ends, it was nice meeting you, bye!” He was redder than ever when he rushed off in the direction of the theater within a theater. 

He absolutely kept the promise and texted after the movie finally ended, but that’s a story for another time.


	2. Texting and Driving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin is confused, Whizzer is gay, and country music is disgusting.

Texting should be banned for anyone above the age of thirty, according to Whizzer Brown. There are no exceptions to this rule, including Marvin Ashman.

Marvin, who’s cute and sweet. Marvin, who has a son. Marvin, who wears plaid. Marvin, who’s thirty-four years of age. Marvin, who’s first text to Whizzer was horrifying and belongs in the Hell it was born in.

Whizzer thought his phone was possessed when he got the notification.

[Unknown Number]: hey!!!!! its marvin, frum b4?? u gave me ur # and i said id txt u?

It was followed by a fuckton of blushing emojis. It took Whizzer, a young, cool, intelligent guy, two minutes to decipher that bullshit.

[Whizzer]: suddenly I can’t read I don’t know  
[Whizzer]: nah, I’m kidding, it’s Whizzer, but do you always text like a teenager in a cyberbully awareness video?

For the sake of this guy’s kid, Whizzer really hoped the answer was no. Unfortunately, the answer was just, “lk wat??” followed by three cry-laughing emojis. 

On the other end of the conversation, Marvin was red in the face and struggling. In the five short minutes he’d been in the car, he’d already somehow messed up. Trina refused to help and Jason was just cackling at his father’s misfortune. 

He was trying to be cool and hip to attract the cute boy who couldn’t be over college age, maybe even drinking age, yet. The vibe that he got from the two responses he had been sent was not as attracted as he had hoped.

Regardless, he kept trying.

[Marvin]: Is this better? I truly don’t understand texting. I just wanted to ask you on a date. Apologies.

Apparently, trying to text like he speaks is a much better plan than texting like he thinks high schoolers speak, because less than a minute later he got a much more positive response.

[Whizzer]: depends on what you had in mind. anything you would take that kid of yours to regularly is off limits. unless your kid likes bowling.

[Marvin]: Jason? No, he’d die before doing anything as physically demanding as bowling. But does that mean you’d like bowling? 

Marvin had gone from red-faced and frowning to red-faced and grinning. He can do bowling. He knows how to bowl. He can do that-

[Whizzer]: nah that’s not really a first date thing. we could go to a cheap restaurant? 

That… That works, too. Marvin went over all the cheap restaurants that he likes and aren’t considered “weird dad restaurants”.

[Marvin]: Would you prefer Chili’s or Dairy Queen?

Whizzer was very torn. Quality food with mediocre dessert or quality dessert with mediocre food? He eventually decided that too much greasy shit would ruin his complexion.

[Whizzer]: chilis if youre paying. and if you wear a blazer over one of those tight plaid shirts you obviously have.

Marvin quickly agreed and they decided to meet up at the theater when Whizzer’s shift ended the next day at 6. Trina had to flick him because he squealed to loudly and bothered Jason.

Whizzer had spent extra time on his wardrobe and hair before work the next morning, but he’d deny it if asked. He wasn’t nervous, per say, just… Unbelievably crushing. He’d never had a crush that reciprocated his feelings before. He listened to Fergalicious on a crazy high volume on the way to the cinema in order to calm his nerves. Or whatever.

Marvin, on the other hand, was a mess. He couldn’t find a blazer in his house other than the one he wore to his grandfather’s funeral, but that one had holes and tear stains on it. The conclusion he came to is that the universe was telling him just to wear plaid and a tie. Chili’s is casual enough for that, Whizzer would understand, right?

(Wrong.)

When Marvin arrived, Whizzer almost dropped the popcorn box he was holding, but luckily the key word in that sentence is almost. The only thing that kept the box in his hands was the disgusting lack of a blazer. Honestly, the crush almost disappeared in that minute.

“Do you not own any blazers or were you confused as to the meaning of the term?” Whizzer asked, sarcasm creeping into his tone. Marvin blinked.

“Um… I didn’t own any? Except for the one I wore to my grandfather’s funeral, actually.”

Whizzer slowly nodded. He could understand that. “Do you not know what a Wal-Mart is?”

“Honestly, no,” Marvin joked. The joke was a little bit lost on Whizzer.

"Yeah, me either. Anyways, my shift just ended, wanna bounce?” The younger raised a brow, grinning slightly. He forgot how old and dumb Marvin is.

“.... Bounce? I’m sorry, could you please explain what that means?” This was followed by Whizzer muttering something that sounded distinctly like an insult to all baby boomers and then rolling his eyes. He just grabbed Marvin’s hand, all nerves absent at the sight of the confused middle aged cutie, and walked outside.

He only let go once they were outside, needing his hands to put on his hips. “Okay, now where’s your car? Also, close your mouth. As cute as you look, you’ll catch flies.” He felt much more comfortable in his own realm of shameless flirting than he did with stuttering and blushing and acting like a middle schooler. He hasn’t flirted like a middle schooler since he was born. In middle school, he just shamelessly looked at the other boys' asses until they noticed and accused him (correctly) of being gay.

Marvin, still gaping, lead Whizzer to his car, which most definitely wasn’t a luxury vehicle, unless Jeep Wranglers are the newest luxury class. That doesn’t mean Whizzer judged it, because how could he, with his forty-year-old piece of garbage that he pays for with pure hope?

He was pleased, to say the least, when Marvin opened to door for him. He was much less than pleased, to say the least, a minute later when the car was turned on and god-awful country music started playing from the car radio.

“What the fucking fuck? Could you, like, change the station? It goes against my moral code to listen to this shit,” he informed his date. Marvin was confused (shockingly) for a moment before he blinked and turned off the radio, opting instead to play Spotify from his phone. Actually, no. He handed the phone to Whizzer, who literally squeaked with glee, or rather, with Glee. Marvin came to regret his decision as soon as the Glee season one soundtrack started playing from his speakers. 

It was only then when they realized just how trying their date could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i actually wrote a second chapter that was more that 1000 words and im so hyped on coffee that i dont even care im gonna have a heart attack i love caffeine


	3. The Plot Thickens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date.

Chili’s is a popular location for many dates. Little kids go there for their very first “dates”. Adults go there for preludes to hook ups. Two men, almost ten years apart in age, go there to eat grilled chicken, drink margaritas, and laugh about everything. 

They walked in, hand in hand, the older man bright red and stumbling and the younger man smiling surreptitiously and swaggering along next to him. It was more than obvious who was in control and who was paying. 

Whizzer spoke to the desk attendant with the kindness and respect of someone with a similar terrible job, and Marvin was confused. The kid was asking this woman about her pets and where her dream job is in the same time Marvin would have spent mocking or ignoring her. Somehow, they had already followed each other on one of those fancy Social Medias before they even sat down at the table. Poor Marvin was confused and amazed. Mostly confused.

Whizzer slid into the booth and Marvin slid into the seat across from him, picking up his menu. “So how do you do that? How do you talk to the working people like that?”

Whizzer laughed, smiling at his date. The aura upper middle class that he had picked up from Marvin were obviously correctly analyzed, so he decided to take pity on this poor old man. “You have to take interest in them,” he replied, pausing to raise a brow before continuing. “You can’t expect it to be all about you when you’re talking to the working class. We’re quite fond of people actually noticing us.”

Marvin blinked. He hadn’t missed the slight jab at himself and his “class” of people. “What if instead of doing that I just, I don’t know, awkwardly smile and answer only the questions they’re scripted to ask? They don’t really need actual conversations or whatever.” Wrong choice of words.

“Unless they’re pretty and gay, right?” Whizzer did his best not to scowl. He hates people with this attitude, but he’s smart enough to recognize that it’s how Marvin was raised. Marvin once again caught the barbed remark and flushed.

“Oh, come on! You know that’s not what I meant, don’t be petty.” Another wrong choice of words. Whizzer actually scoffed and opted out of responding in favor of picking up his menu and burying his face in that. He knew what he wanted, from appetizers to desserts, but he really despises people who don’t have to work that hard. 

Their waiter came to ask about drinks and Whizzer kicked Marvin under the table before starting a friendly conversation with said waiter. Marvin tried to talk but stopped as soon as his hands started shaking and his face got sweaty. He sank back into his seat. Whizzer took a moment to look at him worriedly before finishing their order and watching the waiter walk off. He then diverted his full attention back to Marvin. “You good?”

Marvin laughed quietly. “I don’t think so, why do you ask?” 

“You look uncomfortable.”

“Oh, that? Right. Um, my son’s step-dad says I have anxiety, and he’s a nerd or whatever. That might be what you’re sensing?” Marvin turned even redder. Whizzer nodded, thinking.

“Yeah, my little brother has that. Uh, had that.You know what? I’ll get off your case about not talking to the working class if you let me get queso for my chips.”

“Why do you want-”

“Hot cheese. It’s good shit, Marv.”

After that, the conversation came easy. By the time their main courses arrived, they were leaning across the table and into each other's personal space absentmindedly and discussing random topics, from astrology to law. As it turned out, Whizzer wanted to be an astrophysicist and attends the very same college that Marvin created his son at nine years earlier (and then graduated from with honors, a law degree, and an infant child).

“How do you afford it? Didn’t you say your parents kicked you out?” Marvin had asked curiously around a mouthful of chicken.

“My grandmother is the real MVP. My grandfather died and his entire fortune was given to me instead of her, much to dear Momsie and Popsie’s dismay,” Whizzer had responded with a smirk before eating another cheese-covered chip.

Whizzer learned that Marvin works at a small law firm and Marvin learned that Whizzer not only works at the cinema but also at Barnes and Noble, Walmart, and he occasionally babysits his best friend’s niece for the cheap price of “I’ll charge based on how many times it cries.”

By the end of the night, Whizzer’s not-a-crush had turned into a full blown be-my-boyfriend, and his charisma had turned into inexcusable nerves. They shared a large cookie and were both tipsy on slightly alcoholic fruity drinks, so both of their intrusive thoughts were going wild. Grab his hand. Hug him. Kiss him. Ask to be his boyfriend. None of those things were done by either party until dinner was done and paid for and Marvin was offering his hand to Whizzer to help him up.

They walked outside and Whizzer was taken aback by Marvin’s face illuminated against the city lights. He wanted to kiss him. He didn’t kiss him. He simply squeezed his hand. They walked to the car. They both felt disappointed and unfulfilled.

Whizzer gave Marvin directions to his house and was far too infatuated to ask him to turn off the radio. Marvin pretended not to notice.

Neither of them wanted the night to end, that much was clear, so when Marvin walked Whizzer to his door, Whizzer grabbed his wrist and stared at him like a child stares at the television. 

“I’m going to ask you a question and you have to answer within five seconds, okay?”

Marvin nodded, mouth dry.

“Be my boyfriend? Like, officially, or whatever?”

Marvin nodded, mouth drier.

Whizzer’s face broke into a beautiful grin and he moved his hands from Marvin’s hands to Marvin’s neck. “One more question.” A nod. “Can I kiss you?” 

Marvin didn’t nod this time, he was too busy telling Whizzer yes in a much more active way.


	4. An Astronomer's Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer tries to understand and work through his personal messes, sort of.

Marvin opted out of staying over, and the days after their date ended up being an utter standstill. Whizzer refused to be the first one to text and Marvin didn’t want to embarrass himself again by sending the wrong thing. There was a point when Jason asked his father to take him to the movies and Marvin actually drove an extra twenty minutes as not to see Whizzer unannounced before realizing that he hates the movies and would rather be dead than at any theater. 

The standstill only ended when Marvin accidentally called Whizzer instead of his work friend, Winifred. Whizzer would kill anyone who even implied that he picked up on the first ring. He picked up before the phone even started ringing, as always. It’s a skill to hate the phone sound that much.

They stumbled through a minute of Marvin frantically apologizing for randomly calling and Whizzer laughing too hard to tell him that it’s fine, but after that they had an actual conversation. 

“So you only have to contacts under W and you somehow managed to still mess up?”

“Leave me alone, Whizzer! It’s an honest mistake!”

“I know, Marv, and I find you all the more adorable because of it.”

“.... You find me adorable?”

“No shit, old man.”

They also talked about meeting up again. Marvin panicked a bit, though, so they had to postpone their planning. A verdict was reached that Marvin would text his boyfriend after his business call, and Whizzer would not mock his boyfriend’s texting skills. More than needed.

They hung up with quick “uh, goodbye, beautiful” and “bye, old man”’s like dorks, and their days went on. Whizzer continued watching Neil deGrasse Tyson documentaries for “research purposes” and Marvin called Winifred to discuss whatever it is that Winifreds discuss. 

Forty minutes later, halfway through Neil patiently explaining the first infinite universes theory, Whizzer finally got a text from a recently updated contact.

[Marv]: So, you mentioned bowling?

Whizzer smiled and paused his show before picking up his phone. He smiled even more when he read the little words on the screen.

[Whizzer]: aw you remembered???  
[Whizzer]: good to know your age didnt affect your memory

[Marv]: You’re so mean to me. But seriously, bowling? 

[Whizzer]: yeah ofc marv, bowling sounds great

[Marv]: I’m free for the next two days, my boss doesn’t mind.

[Whizzer]: didnt you say that youre your own boss

[Marv]: Yeah, exactly.

Whizzer laughed out loud, eyes sparkling. The sparkle was wasted, though, as no one could see it. 

They set a time and Whizzer was once again left to his own thoughts.

The thoughts, as always, were not fabulous.

He hadn’t had an actual boyfriend since he was fourteen and still swooning over random Hollywood stars. He hadn’t wanted a boyfriend since he graduated high school and the only other gay boy in Albany announced he was going to a community college, effectively disappointing Whizzer and his big dreams of deep space.

Though that had only been seven years prior to his current predicament, it felt like a lifetime ago. Funny the effects two years of backpacking in Europe and an astrophysics major can have on a man. Seven years of casual sex and no intellectual man to combat his own huge brain. Ten years since the word “boyfriend” had even crossed his mind outside of passing. Too many years, and there he was, sitting on his couch and swooning over a man that didn’t name a star or planet. 

To be fair, Marvin named quite a few law cases, which counts for something. Does it count for something? Does having a last name slapped on a case, such as Ashman v. Lower Manhattan, count as naming cases. Does it count more than having a star named Brown-15, as Whizzer plans on having by the time his hairline recedes? 

Questions have been asked and answers have been omitted from the record.

He stood and fixed himself a latte like the privileged millennial he is. The presence of the latte successfully erased all of his issues from his mind and all that remained was his unwritten five page paper on the multiverse theory.

He then pressed play on the television, hoping relentlessly that Neil's calming droll of a voice would lull him out of the Marvin induced horror. The phrase 'hoping without hope' would work in this circumstance.

After far too long, he gave in and called his only smart friend. Naturally, she picked up on the second ring.

"Hey, sugarface, did you buy me Funyons yet?"

"You're majoring in the medical field, you know those suck for you, Char!"

"You're majoring in space and you still watch Bill Nye, don't even talk to me."

"I got a boyfriend."

"Oh my crippling debt, please continue to talk to me."

The practicing doctor and the self christened space nerd talked until the former ran out of minutes on her phone. Crippling debt is hell for a phone bill, especially when no self respecting provider is willing to provide for a far out of date iPhone 3. 

Somehow, the call ended with Whizzer in pajama bottoms with little planets on them and a tank top with "VIVA LA PLUTO" printed in bold letters. Neil deGrasse Tyson was still on the television and the only ice cream left in his dorm was eaten and digested in Whizzer's stomach. Every phone call with Charlotte somehow ended like that. The reasoning was inexplicable. 

Eventually he added rum to his latte and got tipsy enough to write far to much on a theory he had far too much faith in.

He was still tipsy at three A.M. when he went to bed. He was also still tipsy when he texted Marvin a selfie with four eggplant emojis. Eggplants are his weakness. It hardly even crossed his mind that old people don’t know what the eggplant emoji means.

When Marvin woke up to the most beautiful selfie he had ever seen and a weird purple vegetable emoticon, he decided not to question it. If he happened to make the selfie his home screen wallpaper, that was nobody’s business but his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey psa school starts on august 21st for me so idk if ill be updating as frequently starting now, and i already only update sporadically sorry lmao


End file.
